The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Mugs

The week came to end, just as quick as it started. Monday morning merged with Friday night, like a time lapse from dawn to dusk, where everything in the middle was too fast and a blur. But just like a time lapse, it was amazing. I say this, not because I get an extra hour of sleep because of the end of daylight savings, or because the end of the year is almost here, but simply because I can't get over my little evening with Noah, almost a week ago.

I'll be honest and say that when I came home, and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, my smile was cringe worthy even to myself. My cheeks were shaded pink, and no matter how many times I washed my face, the stain wouldn't budge. Noah, I concluded, had caused ruptured capillaries in my face, and even that thought made me smile wider.

Like a fool, I moved about my apartment in a daze; my mind in a trance, where I keep going back to Amu's and repeating Noah's conversation over and over. Albeit, I edited it to have my favourite parts replaying constantly, but still.

I prayed isha, and as I sat on my prayer mat and stared out at my balcony, and to the darkness of the night, an unwelcome shiver of anxiety popped my bubble and had me falling back down to reality- religious reality. See, a loud voice in my head, louder than Noah's, and sounding and awful lot like Baba's, was reprimanding me.

The voice didn't approve of the reason for my happiness. It wasn't against it, but it didn't approve. I wouldn't have paid it much thought, but the thing that irked me most, was that it had a point. I was overjoyed at something morally and islamically wrong. I was happy being in the company of Noah, a non-mahram, sharing a meal and being somewhat complimented by him.

The thought alone left me feeling like I had committed a sin, not by my actions, but by my feelings. My feelings that managed to weave themselves a tight rope between Noah and myself, and have now abandoned me in the middle wobbling uncertainly.

"Promise me you won't play around before marriage." I promised.

"If you find someone, don't hide from me. We'll compromise together." I agreed.

And now I feel like. I've gone back on my words. Like a liar I went and caught myself some feelings, feelings I told Baba I didn't have or plan on contracting any time soon. They'd taken over my body, coursing through my veins in surges of adrenaline and seratonine- the high before my feverish low.

I shook my head and gnawed the inside of my cheek.

"I'm such an idiot." I mumbled.

I stared at Noah's balcony, silent and still, and allowed my stomach to knot at its will.

'Stupid crushes', I thought, 'and stupid blonde boys with long hair and laugh lines and practically perfect akhlag.'

"Astagfiruallah." I stood from the mat and folded it.

I pushed the lurking thoughts away. I'd be happy for now, but next time I'll remember my limits.

Now, I'm sat on my collection of cushions scattered across my living area floor, with my books sprawled over the rickety coffee table. I've found that studying in a good mood is much more productive than simply studying. I've been going strong for almost four hours now, something I haven't been able to do since I used to cram for tests the night before in my high school days. I've matured now, slightly.

The front door knocks, and I turn to it, surprised and partially annoyed that my ongoing study roll has been interrupted. Standing, I grab a scarf from my bedroom and straighten out my jumper and dust off the back of my sweatpants. The door knocks again, as I fix my scarf and reach out the open it.

"Hey." Noah says.

"Hi." I smile, and traitorously, the butterflies in my stomach let loose. Self consciously I tug at the long end of my scarf in attempts at shaping it around my face, while trying to ignore the sate of my attire. Noah isn't dressed fancy either. In his go-to joggers and faded Billabong jumper, ruffled hair and thongs. I'd say we're even.